


Kiss Kiss Bang Bang

by Slippery Kick (AceQueenKing)



Category: Tekken
Genre: Crack, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Dysfunctional Relationships, Implied Relationships, Incest, Multi, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-24 08:18:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8364760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceQueenKing/pseuds/Slippery%20Kick
Summary: My good friend jinkazama challenged me to a game of writing our most plausible attempts at crackships.These are those stories.





	1. The Devil, You Know [[Lars/Kazuya, Hard M, Dub-Con]]

**Author's Note:**

> Couple's names are in the titles for each chapter. Individual Chapter rating will vary. Will be a fair amount of het, slash, and femslash hidden in these depths.
> 
> Warning: The first chapter features //some// dub-con elements.

Lars sighed as he looked over his map of the Mishima territories. He had hoped his rebellion could turn the tide but this --

This was a match that could only be made in hell.

His rebellion had failed. There was no other way of looking at it. They occupied less territory than ever, while the Mishima Zaibatsu had expanded, its borders neatly lined up with G Corp's.  The Devil of G Corp, as he'd heard Kazuya referred to in some circles, was a pretty good strategist - or at least rich enough and wise enough to employ a good one. He hated to pay them a compliment - the G Corporation was  _almost_ as corrupt as the Zaibatsu - but he couldn't deny their talent. 

Besides, their goals suited his own. Neither of them were fond of Jin, and both had openly expressed condemnations of the Mishima Zaibatsu's policies, openly demanding Jin stop his attempt to take over the world. Lars knew that Kaz had the Zaibatsu in the past, but he also knew it was nothing like Heihachi's great peace -- and while he hated Heihachi with every bone in his body, he understood Heihachi had been the most stable leader of the Zaibatsu.

Unfortunately, Jin was not the great peacemaker that Heihachi oh-so-loved to be thought of. 

Jin had started taking the rebellion more seriously,  gunning for them more than G-Corp.

Within a few grueling months, Lars' friends were dying left and right. G-Corp got a few successes with the Mishima Zaibatsu diverted -- but not a lot, mostly in areas Jin could afford to lose. It was obvious that Jin was strengthening his own borders, and equally obvious that this "war" was going to continue for a long, long time if Jin had any say about it.

He'd lost Tougou last month. Sakimoto last week. Tatsuya yesterday. His rebellion had gone from hundreds to a handful.

There was no way to get around it; he needed allies in high places, but almost no one was wililng to back them. Not even Lee Chaolan; taking the one good option out of the options the Violet Corporation had was not allowed, because while  backing less than twenty ideologues might be good for the soul -- it was bad for business. And as much as he loathed Heihachi, he was starting to wish the old man was back in charge. Unfortunately,  Heihachi was MIA.

That left only one faction he could approach: Kazuya's.

\- - - 

He was surprised when Kazuya agreed to see him, but then again, they'd never fired on G-Corp before.  
  
Kazuya poured him a cup of wine and asked what he wanted.

"The reformation of the Zaibatsu." Then, when Kazuya's eyes sparkled, he hastily added, "With me. As President."  
  
His elder brother's time at the Zaibatsu might have been before his lifetime, but Lars knew he had to prevent Kazuya from re-grabbing his family's corporation. He was little better than Jin.

Kazuya, much to his surprise, nodded his assent, hiding his mouth between his long, steepled hands.

"A choice for you, then," the Mishima said; his eyes were dark, and Lars began to wonder if the rumors about him were true. "I'm willing to give you soldiers, to let you fight against Jin. My Jacks will certainly help take care of your Tekkenshu problem. _If_ you are willing to coordinate our assaults."  
  
"Thank you," he said; if all Kazuya wanted was his cooperation, then this deal with a devil seemed better than anticipated. But he knew not to get his hopes up that that would be the only condition, and what little hope he had was dashed when Kazuya raised a finger.

"I am not finished." He said, his eyes boring deep into Lars as if they read what they had seen there - and found him wanting.  "When we --  _you_ \-- take the Zaibatsu, I expect you will remember to  _whom_ you owe your assent."  
  
So he wanted a puppet corporation, did he? Lars frowned; it displeased him to have to lie, but he had little choice. He could always reneg on the deal later; if K. Mishima was half as bad as the stories about him were, he'd be fully justified in his lies. 

"It's a deal, then," he said, holding out a hand.

But Kazuya shook his head.

"One more thing."  He leaned forward, his well-manicured hands just inches from Lars' own. "There is a question as to who shall be handling the  _current_ CEO -- "  
  
"If you want Jin, you can have him." Lar's mouth twitched. It was throwing Jin under a bus, but he'd gladly sacrifice one demon to another if it meant stopping the world from going to shit.

"I'm glad we understand one another." Kazuya shook his hands, his fingers slender and cold. There was something cold, too, in that smile, and Lars suppressed the shiver he felt until he was well out of the room.  
  
He couldn't help but feel he'd made a deal with the devil -- but if it saved his people, then it was a deal well made. 

\- - - 

Much to his surprise, Kazuya joined him on the field. That, at least, he could respect; the elder brother of the Mishima family almost always took a front line position. He was brutal in battle, fearless. And Lars did not trust him, not one bit. 

They took the field together, often; by design as often as by accident. Much to his surprise, Lars found they suited  one another. While Kazuya was always taciturn, and he hated the man on principle -- they were good on the battlefield. Too good. There was something in the blood there, he suspected; something that had always kept them on the same page.

With G Corp's generous resources - and in this, Kazuya had been most kind - it was not long at all before he and Kazuya started gaining more ground.

It took only a month before they smashed, together, through the Zaibatsu's large, glass windows. He saw Jin, saw the dark eyes alight with both fury and defeat. Jin knew he had been beaten. The first thing Lars saw was the haunted look on Jin's face, and he raised a hand, was about to shout for him to come in peace -- but then Jin averted his face, and the next thing he saw was a bright laser-beam, pouring out of his former bosses' head.

He froze; thankfully, the beam wasn't meant for him. "Kazuya!" He barked, but the man did not need warning. 

Kazuya laughed, a high-pitched and demonic cackle, and what was left of Lars' heart froze as Kazuya knocked away the beam with wings.

"The rumors were true," he mumbled to himself as he watched Kazuya transform - black demon wings sprouting from his back, horns bursting from his temples. His skin took on a darker, purlish tone - he looked like he was covered in bruises, mottled in death. 

Lars was frozen to the spot.  He watched them clash together, flying around the room, firing upon one another. The two aimed to kill, and fortunately, were so caught up in their struggle that neither aimed for him. Finally, Kazuya dove toward his son, and both went through the remains of the Zaibatsu penthouses' once famous crystalline windows. 

And then it was silent. Onerously, ominously -- silent. 

He waited, taking a small step toward the President's desk. In the darkness, it felt incredibly loud, but neither his half-brother nor his half-nephew voiced any complaint. Emboldened, he took another step. Was it too much to hope they both died?

His hands ghosted the edge of the desk. How many times had he seen the old man here, been given orders to put down a rebellion, to bring peace -- how many years had it been that he had suffered under the Mishima tyranny? 

He was distracted from his coronation as Kazuya flew back up into the room. Lars did not dare to breath.

Kazuya walked toward him, all swagger. He grinned at Lars, and the grin was carnal; he knew Lars knew his secret, and, alarmingly, he did not care.

"Congratulations, Mr. President." Kazuya said, his voice just on the steel edge of mocking. 

Lars was too frightened to resist as Kazuya pushed him back on the desk. He was not quite sure what was going on, but he knew whatever it was, he was going to have to play it smart here. He grabbed Kazuya's shoulder as Kazuya pushed him up onto the desk, and understood what the demon wished him to do. 

When a purple, leathery hand caressed his face, Lars didn't hesitate to lean into it.

"Your skin is...flawless. But father always did prefer the beautiful ones." Kazuya laughed at his own joke, something Lars didn't quite understand. He thought perhaps he would learn the secret, that Kazuya would share with him, but he didn't ,not even after Kazuya fucked him senseless on what was now his own desk. It was rougher than he would have liked; the demon -- his brother! --  didn't give him any time to prepare and certainly didn't care about his own enjoyment. It was not about affection, this joining; Lars understood that much.

It was about _power_. Kazuya marked him repeatedly, his fingers tracing his skin with razor sharp demonic tips, and all Lars could do was hang on, totally overwhelmed. Kazuya laughed again as he hit his zenith. Lars didn't come, didn't even dare to ask for it. He was far too afraid of what he'd get.

Kazuya stood over him, chuckling as the human guise fell back into place.

"Talk to you soon, brother," he said. He turned his back on Lars, walking away like a totally normal person. Lars didn't follow.

Lars stayed on the desk, still breathing hard, processing. Eventually, he got up, cleaned the blood off in the executive bathroom -- and tried to ignore the long gash on his chest Kazuya inflicted.  
  
\- - -

After he'd cleaned up, he looked down fifty stories, trying to spot Jin. Somehow, he wasn't surprised that the boy's body was nowhere to be found.

He ordered the ground troops to search, Tekkenshu and rebels alike, but even they failed to find anything.

But somehow, that was not surprising either.

Eventually he recovered; the scars healed, save the one on his chest, which remained deep and permanently scarred no matter what the ointment he used on it. He focused his time on improving not only his own body, but the world: he made Jin's armies stand down. He slowly but surely began to transform the Mishima Zaibatsu into an instrument of peace. He became a celebrity, not only in Japan, but across the globe - he was the famous soldier of fortune with the heart of gold, the man who would not stand for the schemes of "the mad Mishima child."  
  
The scar reminded him that he had paid a high price, but even if he was uneasy, he felt justified. Lars liked the peace.  
  
\- - - 

Approximately six months into his tenure, an unknown number popped up on his cell phone. He answered, despite knowing full well know who it was.

"Greetings, Mr. President," Kazuya Mishima drawled, and Lars felt a shiver down his spine. He wondered, not for the first time, if he really made the right choice.


	2. Revenge is a Dish Best Served in Leather  [[M, Lee Chaolan/Jun Kazama]]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lee's wardrobe is ruined for a good cause.

Lee has never loved a year as much as he loves 1993. Kazuya is overseas, sponging off father as exhorbantly as possible in California. Heihachi has begrudgingly allowed Lee to go into research and development. He's done well there, making new protoype Jacks that aren't entirely overpolished pieces of junk. He's got glowing reviews, a good stipend, and no Kazuya to glower of him. It is, simply, the best year.

So he spends most of it in the club, celebrating. That's where he sees her.

She's young, new to tokyo. He can tell - her clothes are out of date, last seasons little black dress. It's the kind of thing that gives her away - country girls never pull off black like their city counterpants can. And, anyway, she's too vivacious for black, her dance moves too _exhiberant,_ too...excellent. She isn't jaded.

He wants her  
  
He starts with a standard move. She isn't the first woman he's wanted and she won't be the last. He buys her an expensive drink, makes sure the bartender points = him out in a dark corner. Watches as he serves her, looks effortlessly charming when she glances back at him.

Sure enough, she walks up to him seconds later. He smiles the trap sprung. "Hello, beautiful. I'm ---"

She throws her drink in his face.  
  
"How can you wear animal skin?" She snarls.

He looks down at his sopping leather pants. They were expensive, far more so than the drink she just threw on them. He dabs at it ineffectually with a napkin, frowning. This isn't how this is supposed to go.

For once he is at a loss for words.  
  
Lee Chaolan looks at her for a moment, recovering. His eyes narrow. Hes used to the game, and this girl isn't playing it. He sees her then, all fire and glory, and then -- and then he smiles.

Let it not be said Lee Chaolan doesn't enjoy a challenge.  
  
He leans forward, keeping his face calm. He's lived too long with Kazuya and Heihachi to not have mastered the art of appearing calm when seething inside. He quiets his inner dragon, turns, and pivots.

"What's wrong with wearing animals?" He asks, eyes wide. He's a bit older, but he'll play the clueless rich boy.

The girl, eager to have an audience, sits down.

Lee Chaolan orders a drink in preparation of what will no doubt be a scathing lecture.

He's not wrong and, thirty minutes later, he's more than glad to have a whiskey to wash it down with. He has to stop her half-way through her first rant about the cruelty of....some industry or another - he's been concetating more on her breasts than her buzzwords - just to ask her name.

"Jun," She says, then promptly resumes the lecture.  
  
He tries to redirect the lectuer a few times -- and manages to get out that she's a student, surprisingly, at the local police academy, she's eighteen, and she does _not_  have any sense of humor. Beyond that, she remains focused on the trials and tribulations of the African wildebeest. However, her lecture is not very effective -- he isn't paying much attention, and the parts he does catch just remind him of how much he really loves a good steak every now and again.

In an attempt to stop the flow of meat is murder talk, Lee attempts to play the part of a man who has changed his ways. Lee manages to buy a little bit of time with the wide eyed wizkid routine. Jun seems to respond to it -- she smiles, giggles even at his jokes. They play footsy. He leans forward -- and is rewarded not with a kiss, but something more. 

"So are you ready to take the next step?" she asks.  Well. Let it not be said that country girls are  _chaste..._

"Your place or mine?" He replies. He likes this game; not only because it involves a lot less listening to dull lectures.   
  
She looks at him oddly for a moment. "Yours, of course."

Well. It wouldn't be the first time that Jun was pushy, he figures. It doesn't matter. Lee Chaolan looks forward to conquering this challenge.  
  
\- - -  
  
Pushy is a word that describes Jun rather well. She follows him doggedly, annoyingly pointing out various political candidates that are up for re-election this year who support calves or...whatever. He isn't really listening. Her personality is lacking, but her tits are impeccable.  
  
By the time they make it to his his work apartment, Jun strides through his apartment like she's an army commander. "Which way to the bedroom?"

He likes the way she thinks.

"Third room on the left."

She marches off and, with a shrug, he follows her.  
  
"Get a bag," she says, as they enter the bedroom. 

He blinks. "What?"

"Didn't you want to take the next step?" She stares at him, holding up a calfskin coat.

"What?"  
  
"Get a bag so we can throw this out!" She glares.

"I didn't say I was going to throw out all the things I brought. It's not going to bring the cow back, you know."

She arches an eyebrow and unzips her top just a little bit.

It's enough.

"Fine," he says, figuring he can beat the garbageman to the skip after she leaves.  
  
It takes six hours to get through his apartment. He may or may not hide his beloved unicorn vest in the back of his closet underneath a plush blanket while Jun hunts through his "personal collection" and pulls out several leather ...impliments like they're diseased. He's disappointed, but not surprised by that - she's not innocent, but something tells him she isn't going to be into BDSM, and he has no desire to hear about how much his whip will hurt a long-dead cow. 

It takes six long, agonizing hours, and he isn't rewarded with much beyond covert looks at a pretty nice clothed ass. It's just barely enough to keep him going.  But, evenetually, they're done.

"I didn't think you'd stick with it," she says, sounding vaguely impressed.

"Well, you know, I like to keep abreast of the finer things in life," he says, pulling at her vest.

She slaps his hand away.  
  
"Ah ah ah. Do you promise not to consume, hunt, wear, or hurt animals from now on?"

"I promise," he lies.

"At least six months?"

"Yes," he says, impatient.

"Hm," Her lips quirk up into a smile. "Maybe you'll get a second date after all, leather pants."

He pulls her down to the bed. The tits are spectacular. The sex is great.

He does not call her.  
  
\- - -   
  
Two years later, he is at the worst point in his life. Kazuya has him organizing his sneaker collection, Heihachi's been confirmed alive and _pissed_ , and the Kangeroo in the labs keeps spitting at him. Things can't get much worse, and then  _she_ walks back into his life. 

"Ah? Is this the Mishima Zaibatsu?" A young woman walks into the tower, and Lee's blood runs cold.

He carefully tucks his patent leather loafers under his desk. "Jun, was it?"

"Ah." She looks away.

"Take a seat," he smirks. "I'll get Mr. Mishima for you."  
  
 Kazuya, of all things, is a bit over the moon for her. He rarely shows interst in women -- or anything -- , so Lee is surprised. He listens to his brother go on and on about her for _hours --_ and yes, she has a great rack, but not  _that_ great -- and slowly, around hour five, a plan pops into his head, ready for revenge.  
  
"You want my advice?" He asks.

His brother looks at him like he stepped in something, but doesn't tell him to fuck off. It's as close to a  _yes_ as Kazuya usually gets. 

Lee smiles.

"Show her your closet."


End file.
